Pour toujours et à jamais
by Aldira
Summary: Love was fragile and delicate, something Harry knew he would mess up. So he was perfectly fine with just watching from afar, but Fleur has other plans for him. Slash. Genderbent!Belle.


Disclaimer: All rights belong to J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series, and Disney corporations, producer/director/artist of Beauty and the Beast.

Warnings: slash, genderbent!Belle (or Beau, as of now), OOCness

Note: Will be set in modern day, two months after the last showdown with Voldemort (making Harry 18 years of age). Beau will be 17 years old, same as Beauty in the film.

**Pour toujours et à jamais**

_Forever and for always_

Harry sipped at his cup of hot chocolate, enjoying the warm, smooth flavor. The bookstore he sat in was small yet quaint, filled only with the slight shuffling of the people present and the turning of pages. The swirling of the scents of the new book and fresh cocoa in his hands gave a sinful and seductive dance, intoxicating him in ways alcohol never could.

He has been attending this quiet, little known gem for the past few weeks not only for the serene atmosphere but also because of— Harry lifted his eyes discretely from the small text of the novel, tapping his fingers on the smooth, wooden table, smiling and slightly biting his bottom lip when he heard the characteristic squeaking of the library cart on his left. He flicked his emerald eyes to the side, catching a glance of chestnut brown hair and long, slender hands carefully and lovingly setting books gently back onto their respective places on the bookshelves. A soft smile made its way on his face as he stared at the completely focused look on Beau's face. He quickly averted his gaze when chocolate brown orbs turned in his direction. Not lifting his eyes until he heard the fading sound of steady footsteps and the wheeling of the cart, Harry breathed out a wistful sigh before a silly grin took over and he barely resisted the urge to squeal, instead deciding to thrash wildly in his seat silently.

Harry knew that Beau was incredibly out of his league. He couldn't match his brilliant intellect no matter how hard he tried, despite being a year older. Beau was too smart, too kind, too beautiful.

_He's too good for me,_ Harry thought in a mix of admiration and disappointment.

His chances with the brunet were significantly slim, and although he wanted to further their interaction with each other, which were only the occasional eye contact and the exchanging of polite smiles between two strangers, Harry was content with just watching Beau in his element.

* * *

"Harry!" Fleur cried, enunciating his name with that strange lilt in her voice that was common here in her home country. "Welcome back!"

"**I'm home!**" he called in return. For the past month, the beautiful French girl has been tutoring him on the basics of her native tongue. In contrast to her soft, frail looks, Fleur was a monster when she wanted to be, cruelly forcing him to study hours on end until he could hold a somewhat decent conversation with someone. Harry shivered, remembering the sensation of the freezing ice cubes she would drop into his shirt and, god forbid, his _pants_ as punishment for getting an answer wrong.

She flashed him an approving look. "Good, good. Getting better."

"Harry, Harry!" The brunet grunted when a whirlwind of yellow flew straight at him. "**Where have you been? Come play with me!**"

He looked down to see his arms full of the ball of sunshine that is Gabrielle Delacour. Harry only had time to manage a hurried wave to his friend before he was dragged up the marble staircase to the playroom. Really, how could he say no to that adorable face? He paid special attention to the path they took, noting the multiple turns. Harry tried his absolute best when, after absent-mindedly ignoring most of Fleur's directions on the house tour, he got lost on the first night there while searching for the bathroom. Hours and hours of looking was fruitless when he realized he passed by the same portrait twice. A butler later found him in the early hours of the morning curled up beside a suspiciously watered potted plant. Harry still blushed uncomfortably every time he caught sight of the greenery. He now learned to give close regard to his surroundings.

As soon as they entered the room, Gabrielle began setting up the table for their play date. Harry didn't bother to protest when he was handed a tiara and a pink feather boa to wear, only asked to switch for a purple one instead—"**You know pink doesn't suit me.**"

So, squeezed into a tiny chair, head adorned with a tight bejeweled tiara, suffocating in a feathery boa, sipping tea calmly, was how Fleur found Harry a half hour later.

"Well, aren't you comfortable?" she raised an eyebrow at his situation. He could only shrug. "I got used to it."

"**Gabrielle, I'm going to have to borrow him for a minute.**"

The eleven-year-old immediately argued. "**But we just started playing, Fleur!**"

Bending down to her sister's height, Fleur looked into her dark blue eyes, holding her hands gently.

"**I don't want to do this, either, but Mother and Father insists that Harry come to this party. We don't want to disappoint them, do we?**"

Gabrielle shook her head dejectedly. Fleur sent her the soft smile that was reserved only for her younger sibling.

"**How about this, Harry and I will take you out to town tomorrow as an apology?**"

Grinning widely, Gabrielle hopped excitedly, knowing full well an opportunity like this was not something to forsake as she was rarely ever allowed to leave the mansion.

"**Really? Promise?**" she asked, sticking out her pinky finger. "**Promise,**" Fleur said, interlocking their pinkies together.

Harry smiled at the obvious affection between the two sisters.

"Well, Harry. Time to get ready for the party," Fleur stood up, shooting him an amused smirk, knowing his dislike for big social gatherings.

Harry pretended to gag, grinning at Gabrielle's giggles in the background at his antics.

"Who knows, maybe you'll meet someone that catches your fancy there, hmm?"

He snorted, fully aware of who holds his heart captive.

"Oh?" Fleur's eyes sharpened attentively, hearing the low sound, "Unless, there's already someone?"

Harry took a step back at her intense look. "Of course not!" he vehemently denied.

_Too late, _Harry thought with a sigh. It seems like the blonde won't stop bothering him until he caves and tells her about his "mysterious lover."


End file.
